Escort Guy
by Barakao1
Summary: Peter sets up a massage business, with a certain "something something" added, in the Griffin home, and makes Chris be a part of it.
1. Chapter 1

Family Guy: "Escort Guy"

EXT. GRIFFIN RESIDENCE - NIGHT

Night time at the Griffin house, for about 5 seconds.

INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - DINING ROOM

Dinner at the Griffin house.

PETER: So, what did you do today, Chris?

CHRIS: I worked an 8-hour day at the record store.

PETER: Uh-huh. So, nothing.

CHRIS: It's not "nothing"! 40 hours a week is plenty.

PETER: Chris . . . we need to talk. Your girlfriend is without a job right now, right?

CHRIS: Right. She's been looking for one.

PETER: Right. Well, that's where I may be able to help. I can get your girlfriend a job, working as a secretary in my business!

CHRIS: Really?

Some thought bubbles appear over Chris' head. He remembers the interior of an office.

CHRIS: I remember the last few jobs you had . . .

He remembers the interior of the toy factory.

The thought bubble then shows George Washington fighting two red and blue robots.

CHRIS: Sounds pretty good!

PETER: Yep! It just so happens I need a new secretary at my . . . office. She'll make a lot of money.

CHRIS: Wow! Thanks, Dad! I promise, Kenzi is really fast at typing.

PETER: Uh-huh.

CHRIS: She has a typing speed of over 70 words per minute - which, as you know, is pretty fast, for keyboards.

PETER: Uh-huh. Yeah, that's . . . that's not really necessary.

CHRIS: . . . Really? All right! Thanks, Dad!

Smiling, Chris high-fives Peter.

INT. QUAHOG, RHODE ISLAND - MAIN STREET

Chris looks up, checking his rearview mirror before driving.

As he drives on, he deals with little traffic.

Soon enough, the traffic light ahead goes from green to yellow, and to red.

Chris applies his foot to the brakes, and the car comes to a sudden stop.

Chris must now wait at the red light. The seconds go on. Chris sighs, and drums his fingers against the dashboard, but still the wait goes on.

Out the window, he sees a homeless woman, holding a sign reading: "HOMELESS AND HUNGRY".

Chris pulls over, toward the woman.

Soon, on foot, Chris follows the woman, attempting to flag her down for attention.

CHRIS: Hey! Uhhh, excuse me!

The woman just walks on. So Chris follows her a little more.

CHRIS: Uhh. Excuse me. My Dad may be able to offer you a job, as a secretary!

WOMAN: Really?

CHRIS: Really. I promise, it's nothing weird. Do you want me to give you his number?

WOMAN: Sure!

INT. CAR - FRONT SEAT - SOON

Chris is talking on the phone, on speakerphone on his lap, with Peter.

CHRIS: Hey, Dad! Guess what?

PETER: What is it now, boy?

CHRIS: I found some random homeless lady, who was homeless and starving, and I said she might be able to get a job with you, as a secretary!

PETER: Hey! That's fantastic! I always do need more secretaries. Good work, Chris! You barely even realize what you have done.

Chris hangs up the phone, and drives on, smiling.

EXT. GRIFFIN HOME - EVENING

The sky is just starting to set over the Griffin home.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - KITCHEN

CHRIS: So, Dad. Ever since you lost your last job, where's the new office?

PETER: It's . . . around.

CHRIS: Around . . . where, I'm wondering?

PETER: Uhhh, it's at the hotel. Don't worry about it.

CHRIS: It's . . . near the hotel?

PETER: It's AT the hotel, it's . . . it's IN the hotel. Chris, it's an escort service.

CHRIS: It's . . . what?

PETER: You heard me! It's an escort service.

CHRIS: Escort service? What's that?

Peter sighs, rolling his eyes.

PETER: Oh, come on, Chris. Don't act like you don't know what an escort service is.

Peter goes back to munching away on his cereal with milk.

CHRIS: But . . . I don't! I've never really known anyone to be in one before.

PETER: Pff. Sure. Okay. Chris, just to sarcastically explain something that everybody already knows, THIS is how the escort business works.

EXT. HOTEL - DAY

An attractive woman wearing a slutty black dress and high heels walks, hooker-like, across the outside of a hotel, walking inside with her client, a man in his late 40's.

A circle pops up with Peter Griffin inside.

PETER: An escort service sometimes takes place in a hotel. A room is rented out. Rooms usually cost at least $100 for one day, but they're used to generate money. If the girl has seen one client, then she has more than recooperated the cost of the room.

EXT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - DAY

Outside a very big, expensive house, a car pulls up to the driveway.

A client steps out of the car, and heads to the door. He knocks on it.

The hooker, wearing all pink lingerie, opens the door.

CLIENT: Hello! Are you "Miss Helga"?

HOOKER: Shut up, bitch!

He walks inside, and she slams the door shut.

Peter Griffin pops back up in his bubble.

PETER: It often looks like THAT. If it's not a hotel, it's a house. Sometimes there's a person living inside the house. Other times, the entire house is rented just for this. And believe me when I tell you, a LOT of money is made this way. Way more money than your . . . your fast-food janitor job, your record store cashier job.

Peter's bubble grows larger, to encompass the entire screen, bringing us back to:

INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - DINING ROOM

Proudly, smiling, Peter Griffin has his hands folded over his chest while talking to Chris.

PETER: And that's how I went from being the poor, struggling fool you knew, to the strong, solid, supportive man I am today. I used to have not enough money to afford bread. Now I just spent $3,000 on candles and shoes. You have got to admit, this is pretty clever.

CHRIS: No! It is not clever! It . . . I . . . I mean . . . it . . . kind of is clever.

Dad, you mean, this is real? I can just . . . go to a house? And there's a woman in there who's just there to be hot, as her job? And I can pay money, and get a massage, and . . . "something, something, something", wink, wink?

PETER: YES! NOW you're getting it! NOW you're speaking Griffin language!

CHRIS: This . . . I can do this? What about for free?

PETER: NO, NOT FOR FREE. You work for money, and money is made by working. The girls are not free. For them to touch you costs money.

CHRIS: Like, how much?

PETER: At least $200, bare minimum.

CHRIS: This . . . is kind of clever. How did you come up with this?

PETER: You know, I . . . don't remember! It just . . . IS, this way!

CHRIS: But Dad, this is . . . degrading to women!

PETER: Is that so? It's their choice. They choose what lingerie to buy. They choose how to do their own hair. They choose to come to me looking for work.

CHRIS: Really? But, still. These women are being . . . baited! I mean . . . I guess not . . . I guess it's the men spending hundreds of dollars, and it's the women getting the money. But, still! This isn't right!

PETER: You will not be the judge of what's right or wrong, Chris. You work at a record store, and only recently graduated college. Your words mean nothing to anyone. These girls, however. They have big boobs. They'll do just fine in life.

CHRIS: Okay, so I guess this biz is not the Devil after all. But, still! Dad, I promised some homeless lady I could help her get a job! A real job, as a secretary! And I only said that to her, because I thought you really had a typing job lined up! I never would have said it to her, had I known this!

PETER: Chris, you just don't seem to get it. When I said "secretary", I meant "massage girl". That's how the world works. Now. I need a new one of these "secretaries", and your new girlfriend fits the bill. She can start Monday, she'll do happy ending massages, and hot wax, that is, her pouring the hot wax on the client's body. The clients love hot wax, they go crazy or it. Also, toes. Heels. Feet - feet area in general.

CHRIS: What? No! She's not like that. My girlfriend's not like that! She would never do an escort -

PETER: It's not up to you, Chris. Your girlfriend WILL be doing it. Then, you'll be getting money.

CHRIS: I don't want money THAT bad, Dad. I'll just take my chances with my record store job.

PETER: OH, PLEASE, Chris! A record store job? You gotta be kidding me! That's never gonna get you anywhere in life. No. You need to start taking part in a REAL job. A REAL job. Observe.

INT. BROTHEL HOUSE - BEDROOM

A beautiful brown-haired woman is laying on her side on a bed, covered in $1,000 of expensive red blankets and pillows, wearing sexy lingerie.

Peter Griffin pops up in a bubble again, and points toward the lady.

PETER: Now THAT is a real job, young man.

INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - DINING ROOM

PETER: Of course, I wouldn't expect YOU to know anything about work. You've never worked real jobs yet. You know nothing about the work field.

CHRIS: But Dad, I work 40 hours a week at the record store!

PETER: So? So what? You think anyone cares? Nobody cares about a record store job! That's not a REAL job. Not like that lady in lingerie in the bedroom. Guarantee she makes five times what you make at your . . . pfff, "record store" job.

CHRIS: Dad, I am not letting my girlfriend be involved in your escort service, ever!

PETER: I'm confused. Then whose escort service?

CHRIS: None! Nobody's! She's not the type of woman that would work in a brothel. Not every woman on Earth is like your . . . your hookers in lingerie!

PETER: Okay. I can see you're not gonna do this the easy way. Chris, if you don't do this, I will cut you out of the family entirely. For as long as your time on Earth remains, you will not be Chris Griffin anymore. You'll just be Chris, who has no last name - and no family. You'll just be that kid with no family that no one knows where he came from. Is that what you want? Hmm?

CHRIS: Dad, why is this so important? Why is it such a big deal to you?

PETER: Because YOU were working at a record store, and you need to learn that that is NOT okay. That's why.

CHRIS: DAD, THESE GIRLS ARE HOOKERS! Nothing but thinly-disguised, barely-dressed hookers! If I ever have kids, I would NEVER want my daughter doing this kind of work!

Peter is silent for 5 seconds, just too shocked to know what to say back.

Then he SLAPS Chris, really hard and really loud, leaving a pink hand mark on his cheek! For the next 10 seconds, we continue to hear the ringing in Chris' ears, which slowly fades away.

PETER: How . . . DARE you take that tone about my escorts! I don't really care about me, I've really let myself go. But my women are PROFESSIONAL escorts. They are HARD-working entrepreneurs, who are WILLING to do oral for an extra $50 after the massage, and you have NO right to be judging them!

CHRIS: Dad, I mean, I'm just saying -

PETER: BUT NOTHING! Your girlfriend is going to be in this escort service even if it kills me. Good day, Chris!

Angrily, Peter walks away, and SLAMS the door shut behind him.

CHRIS: Gee, Rocket Raccoon, I'm sorry you had to see all that.

ROCKET RACCOON: Oh, sure, attach MY name to things, just so you assholes can get ratings. Jeez. I'm gonna go to the bar.

Rocket Raccoon leaps out the window.

EXT. CLAM BAR - NIGHT

Another night at the bar.

INT. CLAM BAR

Peter, Joe, and Quagmire are all sitting around the table.

PETER: Jeez, so get this, guys. My son, Chris? He works at a record store. A record store! Selling music! I mean . . . how pa-thetic is that?

Joe and Quagmire murmur back and forth.

JOE: Well, that's not so bad . . .QUAGMIRE: No! A record store? That's no good.

PETER: And this escort service that I run - he has not done ANYthing yet for it! Anything! He's not been a driver, a manager, anything! And these girls are all so nice!

QUAGMIRE: That no-good deadbeat!

JOE: Well, hold on, Peter - nice or not, an escort service is still against the law. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to disgaree with you on this one. You should not be telling Chris to work at an escort service over his record store job.

PETER: Uhhh, Joe? A record store is NOT a real job.

Over Joe and Quagmire's heads, the words AGAINST and FOR write themselves over white squares.

Underneath those words: the written names JOE and QUAGMIRE.

PETER: Jeez, one for, one against. I need a tie-breaker. What would Cleveland say if he was here?

CLEVELAND: Heeey, hey, hey!

PETER: Whaaa?

Peter walks over and opens up a cupboard door, revealing Cleveland's face!

CLEVELAND: Hey, y'all! I was just in town to buy towels. But then I ended up feeling depressed and playing baseball instead.

PETER: Yeah, you guys forgot, he used to be that random guy, saying random things, in Season One.

CLEVELAND: You shouldn't put your son into the escort business, Peter.

PETER: Shut up. Your opinion is now disqualified. You have a history.

Peter closes the door back shut.

EXT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - NIGHT

Peter pulls into the driveway.

INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - KITCHEN

PETER: Chris, I've figured it out. Your girlfriend will work for me, as a massage girl, and that's final.

CHRIS: But, Dad -

PETER: Nope. Nope. No buts. Don't wanna hear it, young man. You need to learn about REAL work. You need to learn about escorts.

CHRIS: Dad, you CAN'T mean this!

PETER: Don't wanna hear it! I don't wanna hear it! It's nothing but excuses from you, as to why YOU think you're entitled to just . . . have it all, for free!

CHRIS: Dad, I graduated college so that I could get a good job! I did not graduate college just to end up in an escort service!

PETER: Chris, an escort service is exactly the higher calling in life that a college degree was meant to prepare you for. Don't you see how it all ties in? Of course not, I forgot, you're retarded.

CHRIS: Come on, Dad. I worked 40 hours a week, the whole time I went to college -

PETER: I don't care. I don't care. If you're not a part of this escort service, you are HOMELESS. You hear me? HOMELESS. Like that lady you found on the sidewalk. Hey, maybe you two could hold up a sign together, you're gonna need a sign, when you're homeless.

Peter leaves, and Chris sags his head, upset.

Brian enters.

BRIAN: Hey, buddy.

CHRIS: (still upset) Hey . . .

BRIAN: Everything all right?

CHRIS: Yeah. I guess. It's just . . . the stress of having to agree to this whole escort service, or else lose my house AND my family. This is not what I got my degree for - just to have everything I say silenced by Dad, because I'm not a girl in lingerie.

BRIAN: I understand. As a dog, I've got plenty of stress in my life. Plenty. Like . . . sometimes, I'm not even sure when my walk is gonna be. Or how fast I'm gonna get my food. You know? It can be pretty stressful to be a dog.

CHRIS: I just hate that feeling, like Dad's not gonna stop trying to convert Kenzie. He's always trying to convert people.

INT. MCDONALD'S FAST-FOOD RESTAURANT - SOON

CASHIER: Hello. Welcome to McDonald's. What are you having?

PETER: Oh. I see your name tag says "Joanne". Heh. So that's your "stage name", right? (wink)

CASHIER: Ummm . . . what are you having to eat?

PETER: Now, I'm sure you've already done this before, but - I run a business, see, where "secretaries" make appointments all day. Appointments with clients. You know the kind I'm talking about. (wink)

CASHIER: Sir, you haven't ordered any food or drink yet.

PETER: Oh, yes. Right. Uhhh - I'll have a "nuggets and fries, with a drink". Heh. You know - little cover story.

CASHIER: Nuggets, fries, and a drink. Right. I'll make that a combo.

PETER: Heh! Good one! Anyway. If you want to switch your massage business to me, instead, I guarantee you I'll make you more money than the other guy. Plus, my girls only have a payout of 40%. Most managers keep 50%. I keep only 40%, so YOU end up with more of your income, if you switch to me instead.

CASHIER: I . . . don't understand what you're talking about. Please move along, so I can serve the next customer. Hi! Welcome to McDonald's!

PETER: Oh, wait, wait. One more thing. In my business, it's usually outcalls. That's the thing. It's outcalls. It's not in-calls. I'll just need a photo of you, no shirt, no pants, but also no nudity. ABSOLUTELY NO NUDITY. Oh, and a black square over your face. That's necessary.

CASHIER: What?

PETER: Also, little tip? Iif you're gonna be in this biz, honey, you're gonna NEED a work phone. Otherwise, these guys are PSY-CHO, they will be stalking you and calling you on your private phone non-stop. I pay the phone bills, so, if you think you're gonna just disconnect from me, and run off, think again. I'll cut off your phone.

CASHIER: And here's your food.

PETER: What the Hell you talking about, "food"? I don't want food.

CASHIER: Sir, you just ordered -

PETER: Read, between, the lines! I was just SAYING I wanted food, to establish a cover story! Jeez! Anyway. You start Monday. Be there at 9 a.m. DON'T be late.

He walks away, leaving the cooked food uneaten, and the cashier baffled.

EXT. MOSTON BARKET BUILDING - SOON

Peter's car pulls up to a parking space in front of Moston Barket.

INT. MCDONALD'S - SOON

Peter is seated at a table with Chris' girlfriend.

PETER: All right, Chris' girlfriend, now I can tell you the REAL reason we're here.

You see, my son, Chris, is just . . . young, and stupid. He doesn't know how the world works. He thinks, just because he has a college degree in Psychology, that somehow he is going to make it in the world. But he's wrong. Now, as a massage girl, you can start on Monday. I'll just need some photos with your face blocked out with a black square, and we can get you set up with a stage name and start making outcalls. Remember, 40% goes to me.

KENZIE: Wait. Wait. What?

PETER: You know. Aren't you planning on becoming a massage girl, who gives happy ending bodyrubs for $200 per session, without my son Chris knowing or finding out his whole life?

KENZIE: Excuse me? What kind of girl do you think I am? I wouldn't do . . . happy endings!

Peter laughs.

PETER: Okay, okay, I get it. I know. Cover story. But, come on. Let's get serious. We can go lingerie shopping on Sunday. You can come up with a stage name. Maybe: Sexola.

KENZIE: Uhhh, excuse me? I would never do anything like this! Mr. Griffin, you said you had an offer for me as a secretary - as in, typing things! You never said -

PETER: Okay, READ, BETWEEN, THE LINES.

As Peter talks, black lines are drawn, with white text inside. Between those lines are blue words.

SECRETARY

Touches Men

LOTS OF MEN GOING IN AND OUT OF HOUSE

Men Pay Money To Be Touched By Girls

LOTS OF MONEY COMES IN.

PETER: Think of it like this. It's like being a stripper, except you're touching the guys for cash. And THAT is how things work in the Griffin family.

Kenzie stands still, just shocked, frozen, for several seconds.

PETER: Remember, Chris does not have to know about this. Now, try to bring at least three clients a day over, to my house. Always MEN. Just bring them in, and tell Chris it's . . . uhhh . . . the plumber. Or the electrician. He's a dumb kid, he'll believe it. Then, you end up making money! Remember, I get 40% of it, and DON'T you stiff me of my money like my last two girls!

KENZIE: I can't believe you would say all of this to me - to your own son's girlfriend!

PETER: Well, you can agree not to tell Chris about anything, right?

KENZIE: Agree not to tell Chris anything? I'm dating your son.

PETER: But YOU AGREE not to say a word of this. Right?

KENZIE: . . . Right, Mr. Griffin.

PETER: Right. So you agreed. It is settled, then. You start Monday morning.

KENZIE: What?

PETER: I said, it's agreed: you start Monday morning. You can dress as a cowgirl, or as a schoolgirl, if you like.

KENZIE: Mr. Griffin, for the last time, I am not working for you! Not as a "secretary", not as a "cowgirl", or a "schoolgirl", not as any of these things you keep fantasizing about!

Peter is silent. His mouth opens, wide, as he is just too shocked to know what to say.

PETER: I can't believe this. Girls never say no to this type of stuff. Never. Well that does it, Chris' girlfriend. From this day forward, like Clark Kent and Lex Luthor, we are . . . enemies.

EXT. RUINED SCIENCE LAB - DAY

Teenage Superboy and bald Lex Luthor, feeling his head with both hands now that he's bald, stand outside the wreckage of Lex's science lab.

LEX: Good heavens! I'm bald! BALD! All because of that explosion in the lab that you, clearly, are responsible for! You did this on PURPOSE! You were jealous of me! So you made me go bald! That's it. Now that I'm bald, I'm gonna . . . I'm gonna . . .

Lex's eyes narrow, and we ZOOM IN, while psychotic music plays.

LEX: I'm gonna apply my Ph. D in Science to evil, instead of helping people, and feeding starving countries, like I've been doing so far. Now I'm gonna take over the world, and make them all sorry they laughed at me for being bald! Ahhhhh ha ha ha ha haaaaa!

Lex runs away.

SUPERBOY: So, all bald people are likely to attempt to dominate the world. Got it. But why would he not just . . . take me to court?

LEX: GOT IT!

Lex runs back into the scene, now wearing a green and purple mechanical suit.

LEX: You're right! I SHOULD take you to court!

INT. THE PEOPLE'S COURT - MIDDAY

Music plays. Doo-doo-doo . . . _ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta . . . _doo-doo, DOO, doo-doo . . .

VOICE: The People's Court!

VOICE: Today's case: the plaintiff, Lex Luthor, alleges that costumed superhero Superboy made him go bald on purpose, by causing a fire and explosion in his science lab. Lex Luthor's 200 IQ cannot see around this, nor help him find a way to move on or cope.

Superboy has his arms folded, looking furious, looking away.

A caption reads: "CLAIMS THE FIRE WAS NOT HIS FAULT".

VOICE: The defendant, Superboy, who's really Clark Kent, claims the fire was "not his fault", for he blew on the fire attempting to put it OUT, not to spread it out, to those chemicals.

SUPERBOY: Come on! You guys really . . . whoof . . . you all really believe I would just - betray my own friend like that? Make him go bald on purpose? I did not cause that explosion!

LEX: Admit it! You did! You were jealous of my red hair!

Superboy sags his head in shame.

SUPERBOY: Yeah, I . . . I admit it. I was. I was kind of jealous of his red hair. I did start that fire.

The crowd begins to gasp, flashing photos quickly.

INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM

Chris is sitting on the couch, firing away with a video-game. Brian is sitting next to him. _Pow! Pow! Pow! _ The sound effects are constantly firing away.

BRIAN: Wow. This game's graphics are pretty incredible.

CUT TO a shot of the game, which is live-action, filmed in an actual backyard, the main character sneaking through the grass, crawling. Looking around, the main character looks at his own hands, revealing photorealism.

BRIAN: Huh. Hey, I gotta take a leak. I'll be back in 30 minutes.

Brian walks away.

EXT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - MAP-VIEW

Seeing the entire area around the Griffin house for 200 feet, from an aerial angle, we watch as Brian runs from yard to yard, to yard, from one bush to another. Brian pees in 8 places, one at a time.

BRIAN: Yep. Pee here. Hmm. Let's see. Nothing here . . . nothing here . . . HEL-lo! I smell doggie! Oh yeah! (sniff, sniff) Oh, yeah, oh yeah! Let's see! Let's see! Lift up . . . pee right here! Ha ha!

Brian runs along on all fours.

BRIAN: This is awesome! This is so cool! Pee right here. And pee right there.

INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM

Brian opens the door and comes back inside.

BRIAN: Hey. How long was I out?

CHRIS: 35 minutes. I've stopped playing my video-game. (yaaaawn) I think I'm gonna go to bed early. Night, Stewie!

STEWIE: Yes, late afternoon, Christopher.

EXT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - THE NEXT MORNING

Peter Griffin's car pulls up to the driveway. Peter and a woman step out, reaching the front door.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - LIVING ROOM

PETER: Hey everyone, meet the newest member of the Griffin family, Kelly Dominatrix!

Blonde-haired Kelly Dominatrix, dressed in all black leather, shows up, smiling, with a whip.

KELLY: Shut up, bitch!

She hits Peter with a whip, three times in a row.

PETER: Unlike my deadbeat son, Kelly knows how to make real money. Enough to make rent, electric, and more. So, she's going to be the new massage girl!

Peter puts his face deeply into Chris'.

PETER: AND DON'T! YOU! SCREW THIS UP! LIKE ALWAYS!

Standing back up, he returns to Kelly's side.

PETER: You are to treat her like your master. You will obey what she says, and that is final. Remember. She's not working for the Griffins. The Griffins are working for her.

CHRIS: Mom, this is terrible! Something has to be done to stop this!

LOIS: I know, Chris, sweetie, I know it's terrible! Just . . . try to remember that it's only bodyrubs and technically not sexual acts unless they spend an extra -

Chris grabs his ears.

CHRIS: STOP IT! Come on! I don't wanna hear this, Mom!

LOIS: But sweetie, I'm just saying, all she does is whips and chains -

CHRIS: STOP IT! STOP IT! Why can't we talk about space aliens? Or government experiments? Or NORMAL people things? Why do you guys ALWAYS have to be in your sex-talk mode ALL the time of EVERY day? You guys are being just like that guy, Quagmire, from that TV show!

QUAGMIRE: (through the window) Oh, thanks. Thanks a lot, Chris. That makes me feel great.

CHRIS: Can't there be a day where we live like normal people?

PETER: Chris, you are never seeing your friends again. Never. They are the problem.

CHRIS: Ohhh, I can't take this. I can't take this family anymore! I can't take it anymore.

PETER: Chris, you will HAVE to take it. Because YOU are the manager now. You collect 40% from Kelly at the end of every day.

CHRIS: All right. Well. This will be the first day.

PETER: I just know you're somehow gonna screw this up.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - LIVING ROOM - SOON

Kelly walks around the living room with Peter.

KELLY: Okay, now, THOSE ugly paintings have GOT to go. I'm thinking some Marilyn Monroe posters. Get the WHOLE place cleared out, maybe a penis statue over there. ALL of this stuff in this living room, these . . . DVDs . . . video-games . . . this is a ****ing joke! It has to be gone! This is NOT how you run a brothel!

PETER: Yes, yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

KELLY: Comic books in sight, right here in the living room? That's a joke. That HAS to go.

CHRIS: Well, I mean, I live here -

PETER: CHRIS! STOP TALKING! STOP TALKING! STOP TALKING! STOP TALKING!

Chris stops. Peter is red in the face now.

CHRIS: Dad, relax, I didn't do anything.

PETER: I SAID STOP! I SAID STOP! I SAID STOP! I'm sorry, Kelly. I'm SO sorry about my son. Here, let me take the little KID outside so us ADULTS can talk.

Peter walks Chris, by the back of his neck, to the backyard.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - BACKYARD

Chris remains locked out in the backyard while Peter and Kelly talk.

KELLY: Yeah, that TV set has GOT to get out of here. People are supposed to think nobody lives here. This whole house is supposed to be like a spaaaa.

PETER: I wonder how many of you guys's daughters I could convince to join this biz.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - HALLWAY

PETER: Here you go, Kelly! My beautiful queen! You can use my son Chris' room. We'll just get a massage table set up, and you can get started right away.

KELLY: Uhhh, Peter? If you expect me to work here, I canNOT put up with these conditions. I CANNOT. There were comic books in the living room, video-games visible. It looks like some KID lives here. I can't take this anymore.

PETER: I understand. I understand. Please forgive me!

KELLY: You can't be doing this to me, Peter! You CAN'T!

PETER: Listen, bitch, I'll cut off your phone if you keep taking this tone with me!

Silence, for three seconds.

PETER: Bitch! You want that? You want your phone off? Huh? Cause I'll do it!

CHRIS: Dad, stop it. You're taking everything out on -

PETER: Shut up, Chris! Now, Kelly: stop being such a dumb bitch, and start making me some money.

KELLY: (thinking) Well, now I'm not paying him a CENT. Or his loser kid.

PETER: Chris. When the clients get here, YOU are to be OUT of the house. You'll be locked out for a few hours. 7 days a week, forever. And you BETTER do as I say!

Riiiing! His phone goes off.

PETER: Yello!

Another hooker in sexy lingerie pops up in a bubble, yelling at Peter.

HOOKER: I said I wanted cigarettes AND a new car, you stupid moron! Are you mentally retarded?

PETER: Lindsay, look, I'm in the middle of something -

HOOKER: No! I don't care! I'm a woman, you drop everything you're doing, and you do what I say! And that's how this biz works!

PETER: Bitch, I'll tell you how it works, how it works is I'll cut off your phone! I will **** things up for you! You hear me? You and Kelly, you're both the same, I'll cut off both your phones!

CHRIS: 7 days a week? No thanks, I'd sooner kill myself.

Peter walks away, yelling into his cell phone.

PETER: Shut the Hell up, Linsday! Wait. I've got Carolyn calling. Yello?

. . . SHUT THE HELL UP, CAROLYN! I don't wanna hear it!

Peter SLAMS the door shut behind him.

CHRIS: Talk about a job that's mentally unhealthy for whoever's involved in it.

He touches his ear, and turns his head, revealing a large white earpiece and headset.

CHRIS: Oh! Wait! Folks, I've just been told we're out of time, and are going to cut to our first commercial break for the day. If you're taping this with a VCR, press Pause . . . now.

BLACK. END OF ACT ONE.


	2. Chapter 2

Act Two.

EXT. GRIFFIN HOME

Kelly's first client pulls into the driveway. A shady-looking scumbag man comes to the door.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME

KELLY: Hey! The client is on the way! You can't be here! YOU! CAN'T be here! Get lost!

Oh no! The door opens!

SCUMBAG: Hey! Is this the house that's just here to have girls in it, and just Kelly, and just for me?

KELLY: You betcha!

We look up to the ceiling, to find Chris clinging up-side down to the ceiling.

SCUMBAG: So, you own dis place?

KELLY: Oh, yes, I've had it for three years. My Dad's a . . . doctor. I grew up surrounded by military, yeah. It was tough.

SCUMBAG: Oh, I hear ya! I . . . ummm . . . I own Bank of America!

KELLY: Oh, wow. Nice.

60 Minutes Later . . .

The scumbag drives off in his car. Chris talks into his cell phone, looking out the window.

CHRIS: Okay, Dad, the silver car is leaving . . . leaving . . . gone.

PETER: All right, now get your income.

CHRIS: Hello, Kelly. So, you have the money?

KELLY: Ohhhhh, right. Here's the thing. The guy never showed up.

CHRIS: . . . what?

KELLY: Yeah, the guy . . . whoo. Never showed up. I had no clients today. That is what happened.

CHRIS: Now, come on, Kelly. I saw the silver car leaving. What was he here for?

KELLY: Who, what? What silver car? I don't know any silver car.

CHRIS: Come on, I don't have time for this. That guy was here for an hour, you must have some cash.

KELLY: I do not. I swear.

CHRIS: (sigh) My Dad's gonna somehow find a way to take it out on me, I just know it.

Chris calls Peter up.

PETER: You got the money?

CHRIS: No, I . . . let me explain.

PETER: CHRIS! CHRIS! YOU SCREWED EVERYTHING UP! YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!

CHRIS: DAD, LISTEN TO ME! The girl tells me she made no money. Now, I saw the silver car leaving. I know she saw a client. I know it - I saw him inside the house. She just won't admit -

PETER: Chris, every massage girl does this to me. Every single one of them. They tell me they didn't see any clients, then they pocket all the money. Absolutely, positively, every single one of my girls, 100% of them, have done this tome. This has happened to me with 37 massage girls in the past. Not ONE has yet paid me, to date. So, in a sense, it's like I just do not learn my lesson.

CHRIS: Dad! My God! You can see this massage business is no good for you - mentally, or physically! Think about the strain this puts on your heart, Dad. You don't want -

PETER: Chris, I will be the judge of whether or not I value human life. Now, Chris, let me tell you what just happened here. YOU, lied to me. YOU, pocketed the money, then tried to blame it on Kelly. THAT is what happened, and that's final. You, Chris, are just like the rest of my girls.

CHRIS: But, Dad, no! I would never do that! I don't even have any money on me -

PETER: Yeah right! Liar! Liar! Pocket the money, will you? YOU'RE NOT A GRIFFIN ANYMORE, CHRIS. That was the 10th and final straw.

Peter hangs up his phone.

PETER: Son of a bitch, thinks he can pocket hundreds of dollars and keep it a secret from me. I'll show that son of a bitch!

Chris sighs, upset.

CHRIS: I tried to tell him not to run a massage business in this house. I told him it would end up badly. Now look. Now it ended up badly. But Dad still has no idea of it, and he still blames it on me.

LOIS: Chris, it's okay. I understand the truth.

CHRIS: We made no income, but instead, we lost money today.

LOIS: It's okay, sweetie. Tomorrow the girls will pay up. I promise. Otherwise you gotta slap a bitch. Why don't you just go to bed?

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - CHRIS' ROOM

Chris is laying down in bed. Soon, he's asleep.

INT. HEAVEN - 7TH, HIGHEST LEVEL

"Welcome To Level 7" reads a sign planed in the cloudy ground. Chris and God are talking, one-on-one, at God's wooden desk.

CHRIS: God . . . please don't let my Dad go to Hell. It's not his fault. He thinks Heaven and Hell are just fairy tales. He doesn't think there's a Hell for him to end up in. Just please, let him into Heaven!

GOD: I don't know, Chris. Your Dad . . . I mean . . . fff . . . chooooo! You seen the files on this guy?

God holds up the manilla file folders, which spill out all over the place.

GOD: Okay, look here, look. Look. All the speeding tickets, ever. This one's from when he was 17. These ones are from a few weeks ago. And here are all the bills that were unpaid -

CHRIS: I - I know all that. But my Dad is a good person, and I swear to God - uhhh - I swear to you - that up until this massage business came in, he was a loyal, dedicated family man. 15 years ago, he was nothing like the man who wears his clothes today. He does not deserve the inferno.

GOD: Hmm. Kid, you make a good point. But, like . . . it's just . . . your father convinced women to work in an escort service . . .! I mean, that's just, nooooo!

CHRIS: I mean, yeah, but just . . .?

Tears are rolling down Chris' face.

CHRIS: Please, though. He's a good man. He never intended to hurt anyone, at first!

GOD: Sorry, Chris. A shoplifter's gotta pay the price. An escort service has to pay the price. Otherwise, the universe would just be mindless chaos among animals.

CHRIS: Well . . . y-yeah.

GOD: And Chris - nobody can force you to lead the business or not lead it. That is YOUR choice to make, and don't let anyone tell you any different. Without the freedom of choices, why should I bother to give you guys free will in the first place?

CHRIS: Wow! God, you're right! Uhhh - can I go back down to Earth now?

GOD: (waving him away with one hand) Bye-bye.

The cloudy ground underneath Chris dissipates, sending Chris falling.

CHRIS: Whoaaaaa!

God spins his chair around and goes back to playing video-games.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - CHRIS' BEDROOM

Chris wakes up in bed.

CHRIS: Goodness, what a strange dream! I have got to stop smoking so much pot before going to bed!

LOIS: Wake up, Chris Griffin! Wake up! You are going to be late for school!

EXT. GRIFFIN HOME - DAY

Another morning at the Griffin house.

INT. WOODEN CABIN

Chris sits in a rocking chair, narrating the story.

CHRIS: So, to summarize what else happened.

Still pictures illustrate Chris's tory.

CHRIS: We tried again with Kelly. She saw two clients in one day. Paid us nothing. After 5 days of Kelly, Dad fired her. We tried again with Micki. We tried again with Alexa. We tried again wih Brandi. But we just got the same result, over and over and over, and it was starting to look like this business would NEVER make us money.

My job, as a driver, involved about 70 miles a day of driving, for the girls.

But I would always end up getting stiffed, with no money.

I quickly saw how my Dad found this frustrating. No idea why he kept at it.

The girls racked up tickets to my car. Stuff went missing around the house.

LOIS: Where the Hell did my jewelry go?

MEG: And where the Hell did my Prada bag from Season One go? I went through a lot of trouble to get that bag!

CHRIS: Look at this! Look at this! She even stole our Aspirin! She left us with ONE Aspirin pill! She _even _stole our _Aspirin!_ I guess she thought it wasn't Aspirin.

BACK TO the narrator Chris, now dressed as Spider-Man from the neck down.

CHRIS: Lots of bad things happened. But still, my Dad pressed on.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - LIVING ROOM

LOIS: Oh, Peter, could you please hand me my phone?

PETER: I'M SO SICK OF THIS! YOU GET YOUR OWN DAMN PHONE! YOU GET YOUR OWN DAMN PHONE! YOU STOP TRYING TO DOMINATE ME!

LOIS: Peter, what the Hell! All I did was ask you nicely if you could hand me my phone!

PETER: NO! NO, YOU DID NOT! You were trying to own me, like the rest of the girls! You're ALL the same! ALL of you!

LOIS: PETER GRIFFIN! I am your wife, and lover of MANY years - I am NOT "just another massage girl"! And if that's what you see when you look at me, then you don't even know who I am!

PETER: Ohhhh . . . I'm sorry, Lois, it's just - this business! It's so . . . mentally unhealthy! You know?

LOIS: I know. Chris told you that you really shouldn't -

PETER: Oh, nobody cares what he thinks.

We look away, to find Stewie on the staircase, wearing only a diaper.

STEWIE: I'm sorry, fat man, but this is for your own good.

Stewie gets his cell phone out and dials 9-1-1.

STEWIE: Hello, 911? I'd like to report an escort service, that a certain Chris Griffin is in charge of.

Stewie sets the phone down, and looks at the viewer.

STEWIE: Ohhhhhhhh, I'm bad!

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - LIVING ROOM - SOON

PETER: You, Chris, are on THIN ICE with this family. I'm just afraid that somehow I, a perfect father, am gonna end up in trouble over you and your CRIMINAL actions.

Knock, knock! There's a knock on the door.

PETER: Oh, great! I bet it's more problems I have to deal with because of you!

Peter walks to the front door, and opens it to find two policemen.

POLICE OFFICER 1: Hello. Does Chris Griffin live here?

PETER: Yes, he does. What did he do THIS time?

POLICE OFFICER 2: We've received an anonymous tip that he runs an escort service, disguised as a massage business, out of THIS house.

PETER: What? The son of a bitch! Well, the call certainly did not come from here.

POLICE OFFICER 1: Mr. Griffin, I'm here to stop this business.

PETER: Okay, look. I know. I know my kid Chris is crazy. I know it's pathetic that he's still working at a record store, but come on - try to go a little easy on the kid. You know?

POLICE OFFICER 1: I'm afraid you don't understand, Mr. Griffin. I'm not just here to say this to Chris. I'm also here to say it to YOU.

Peter is silent. Then, like Aladdin's genie, his draw drops all the way to the floor.

PETER: You mean I, also, am in trouble over this?

OFFICER 1: Mr. Griffin, if this massage business that you're running doesn't stop, we WILL be making some arrests. And that includes the girls that work for you. They'll be charged as prostitution, and you will be charged as a pimp, both felony charges.

PETER: Just tell me. How did you find out? My son was my downfall, right? I knew it.

OFFICER 1: I looked you up on Backpage, and pretended to be a girl.

INT. COMMERCIAL

ANNOUNCER: Attention, PEDOPHILES, CREEPS, and CHILD MOLESTORS!

Those three words appear in red letters against white.

ANNOUNCER: Tired of being judged and look down upon for your sexual tastes? Tired of being told to stop touching children? Then BACKPAGE is the place for you!

A 50-year-old man and 10-year-old girl smile and give the camera a thumbs-up.

ANNOUNCER: Backpage serves ALL your child-molesting wants and needs! Search for little boys, little girls, or BOTH!

We've got women who tickle your feet with a feather for $500!

We've got women who will punch you in the stomach for only $200!

And for a limited time only, these grown women WILL go out to dinner with you, and pretend that the two of you are dating, for only $400 an evening!

CUSTOMER: WOW! A pretend girlfriend for the evening, who's flesh and blood? For only $400? I'd be stupid NOT to spend my money on this upgrade to life!

ANNOUNCER: So what are you waiting for? Go on BACKPAGE - and start molesting children today! (Might Be FBI Agents.)

INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE

PETER: Chris, if you're not on Backpage by tomorrow morning, posting ads for my girls, you are grounded. Forever.

POLICE OFFICER 1: Now, look. Mr. Griffin, we personally feel like . . . it's not really fair, for your son Chris to be stuck into the middle of all of this, by you. So, I'm giving you one day. When I come back tomorrow, if you're still pulling this massage business game, then I'm going to arrest you, Peter Griffin. And if you still have your son involved tomorrow, he's getting arrested, too.

PETER: I understand. I understand that Chris could end up arrested for this. I agree, it's not right, what Chris does.

POLICE OFFICER 1: This is your final warning. We are not tip-toeing around with you anymore, Mr. Griffin! Your friendship with Officer Swanson does NOT give you unlimited privileges or entitlements.

PETER: Aww! But I thought that was how I would float through life!

INT. AIRPORT - MIDDAY

At Terminal 8-C, a dozen people sit in chairs and wait for their plane to arrive.

OVERHEAD VOICE: Attention, passengers in Terminal 8-C. Flight 417, nonstop to Chicago, is being delayed by 10 minutes. Repeat, Flight 417, nonstop to Chicago, is being delayed by 10 minutes.

Peter Griffin walks in, naked.

PETER: Hey, guys. Uhhh. I was wondering. Can I be the _first _to get on this plane?

WOMAN: What the -? Good heavens! That man is naked!

PETER: Oh, it's okay. I know Officer Swanson.

WOMAN: Oh! Okay! Keep going, then!

Flash! She takes a Polaroid photo of Peter.

PETER: Also, I'm gonna need several free drinks, a little bit of food, an in-flight movie . . .

INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE

POLICE OFFICER 1: Oh, right! Right! The naked airport guy! This is the guy! Right! I remember that. Huh. Wow! So, it seems you ARE dressed this time, Mr. Griffin.

POLICE OFFICER 2: Now, this is the last time we're gonna be all nicey-nice about it. Next time we come out here, tomorrow, there better not be a massage business going on!

PETER: Right. I understand. Chris is an utter failure at life, I get it.

The policemen leave. Peter shuts the door.

CHRIS: So, Dad, now do you think I might have been right earlier, about how you should stop the -

PETER: Chris, no one cares about your college degree, OR your opinion. You still were in the wrong.

CHRIS: But, you will stop the business NOW, right?

PETER: Chris, if you think I'm gonna stop this massage business, you have got another thing coming.

CHRIS: Hey. Who called the police, anyway?

PETER: Wasn't me.

CHRIS: Do you think it was Stewie?

PETER: OH, COME ON, it was not Stewie! It may have been Meg, or Lois, or possibly even you, but it WOULD NOT have been Stewie! It WOULD NOT! I have had ENOUGH of your slandering of my innocent kid, Stewie!

CHRIS: But - don't you think -?

PETER: Chris, it was obviously one of YOUR friends that called the police and reported you. Obviously they don't really care about you. YOUR friends are the cause of all this. THEY are the problem here!

CHRIS: Dad, now come on. It was obviously not my friends.

PETER: You don't know that! That . . . that sneaky . . . Matt . . . or . . . or Brandon, or . . . or Chris, or whatever your friends' names are. Anyway. This conversation is over. I'm not listening to some . . . some KID from a record store, just barely out of college, with some . . . college degree. No thank you, I will talk to 18-year-old massage girls that I met off of Backpage instead.

INT. GIRL'S HOUSE - BEDROOM

An 18-year-old girl with long black hair is pointing and clicking away on the computer.

GIRL: Back . . . page. Hmm. Let's see. SECRETARY WANTED. Legitimate secretary job needed. Makes $200 per session. Must be willing to do happy endings. Not a REAL secretary, read between the lines. Hmm. Well, okay! Here goes nothing!

Click. A close-up of the computer's mouse, as she clicks the left button. On the computer screen, a pixelated image of Peter Griffin loads.

PETER: Hey, everyone! Tired of being laughed at for working at Denny's? Tired of being labeled pathetic because you work at a record store selling MUSIC all day? Tired of your job and life in general being a sad, pathetic joke? Then BECOME AN ESCORT!

INT. WOMAN'S BATHROOM

A woman is brushing her teeth in front of the mirror.

WOMAN: Gee. I am bored with my life. I never get to go out and do anything.

A flash of white light! Now she is wearing only sexy lingerie. All the mess and clutter of items in the bathroom is gone. Nothing is visible in the bathroom except the atmosphere-setting decorations: red petals all over the floor and bath, red heart-shaped pillow, a dozen candles lighting the dark room, and an incredibly skimpy outfit hanging from a hook on the wall.

Now the woman is counting her $20 bills.

WOMAN: Wow! Now my life is 10 times what it was before! THANK you, escort service!

INT. GYM

A fat girl is running on the treadmill.

GIRL: I used to be laughed at and picked on. But now I've got all KINDS of creepy guys stalking me, and wanting to marry me, and give me fake names and fake histories. THANK you, escort service!

EXT. BRICK BUILDING - DAY

A police officer, criminal, and colorful clown all look at the viewer and smile.

POLICE MAN: Escort services are the best thing that have ever happened to planet Earth! Ever!

The clown reaches down and squeezes his own crotch twice, making a honking noise both times.

INT. GIRL'S BEDROOM

GIRL: I'm convinced. This is the job for me!

She uses her cell phone to call Peter. Riiiing! A two-way split-screen view commences, with Peter Griffin in the right half.

PETER: Yello?

GIRL: Hi! I'd like to be a massage girl! I can send you photos of myself in lingerie, with my face blocked out by a black square. But no nudity, of course.

PETER: No nudity. Right. Huh! All right, whoever you are, what is your age?

GIRL: 18.

PETER: Excellent. All right, you can start "secretarying" first thing Monday morning.

GIRL: I don't have a college degree, though -

PETER: No, no, you don't need that. Only losers get those.

GIRL: All right, Mr. Griffin! I look forward to massaging guys for you!

PETER: And I look forward to meeting you!

He hangs up the phone, and only Peter's half of the view remains.

PETER: Just don't tell Chris about this, you viewers at home.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - LIVING ROOM

All the Griffins are sitting on the couch together, except Lois.

CHRIS: Huh. And all these years, you guys acted like I would be the one that would probably meet girls off the Internet. But really it's you, Dad, who meets girls off a web-site.

PETER: Well how the Hell else do you expect me to run a business remotely in Alaska?

CHRIS: What? Alaska? Dad, hold on. We're in Rhode Island. We're far from Alaska.

PETER: Chris, obviously you do not get how things work. I have many, many girls working for me. Some right here in Quahog. Some in New York. But mostly in Alaska.

CHRIS: And you met them off of Backpage?

PETER: Technically, I have not met them. But we do business, and it's been working out quite well.

CHRIS: Really? For how long has this been going on?

PETER: About 4 years now. Where the Hell were you?

CHRIS: About 4 years? Dad, I never knew this about you.

PETER: Chris, there's a lot of things you don't know about me. In fact, you barely know anything about me at all. Now be quiet. You don't need to know anything. Go back to your kid games, your . . . your record store job. Go back to college, college kid.

STEWIE: Yes, you know, I always found it odd how Alaska became integrated into the United States.

INT. MAP OF EARTH

A white gloved hand moves around a map of Earth, around Canada, the USA, and Mexico.

VOICE: Yes, over here, to the west, is Russia. To the right, far east of there, is Canada. But in between the two is Alaska.

All the USA territories become red.

VOICE: Yep. So this area, right here, Alaska, will be counted as U.S. territory, and all this, right here, on the east side of the dividing line, the Yukon, will be counted as Canada. Yep! Makes sense.

An interior shot of any town in the Yukon. Cold, and snowy, with people dressed warmly. White captions identify the area as "the Yukon".

An interior shot of the British Columbian territory.

An interior shot of Quebec.

An interior shot of Alaska, looking just as cold and snowy.

SINGING VOICE: Alaaaa-as-KA! How-does-it-_count_-as-U.S.?

CUT TO Peter in a gray suit.

PETER: When I was a kid, watching TV, Alaska and Hawaii were not part of the U.S.

EXT. OUTSIDE A ROW OF STORES - EVENING

Gray sky. Rainy weather. Chris is walking through the rain, depressed. A slow, depressing version plays of: "Gonna gonna gonna gonna gonna gonna buy me a rainbow . . . gonna gonna gonna gonna gonna gonna wrap it up in a great big bow . . . the time is right, it's day, not night . . . just open up your heart, it'll be all ri-ight . . ."

INT. GRIFFIN HOUSE - SOON

Chris walks inside.

PETER: Ewww. What do YOU want?

CHRIS: So, I getcha. You talk like that to everyone.

PETER: No. Not everyone. Just you.

CHRIS: Yeah right. Obviously you've got the whole family involved in this "massage" business. Remember? No one can be a Griffin unless they're in this "massage" business.

PETER: I don't say that to all the Griffins. Just YOU.

CHRIS: Why? With six and a half billion people to choose from, why pick me, to single out?

PETER: Well, Chris . . . it's just . . . you see . . . all these years, I've been abusive to Meg. And I've known it. I've been well aware of the cycle of abuse. But all this time, I had neglected to be abusive to you, too. And for that I'm sorry, Chris. So now I'm gonna make sure that I give you Hell, just as much as I used to give Meg Hell. And in the future, I promise, I'm gonna make an older Stewie's life a living Hell too. That is my promise, as a father!

Stewie, playing with blocks, suddenly freezes still.

STEWIE: That feeling, when you realize what the future of your life really has in store for you.

MEG: All right, guys. I'm gonna go buy tampons. I'll be back, at some point.

LOIS: No one CARES! God!

Meg leaves.

LOIS: God, that Meg! It's like . . . no one cares that you're buying tampons! You know? I'm just so sorry I ever had her.

PETER: Yeah, that Meg is a bigger disappointment than that time I built that robot.

STEWIE: (to Rupert) Yes, well, this conversation leads me to assume that, indeed, this is how they will speak about ME when I'M not around. (pulling out a ray-gun) I must establish preemptive measures.

A close-up on Rupert.

RUPERT: (subtitles) Preemptive measures? What is that? Is it like candy?

STEWIE: No, Rupert, "preemptive measures" are not like "candy". (rolling his eyes) God! That teddy bear of mine! So impressionable.

LOIS: So, anyway. Peter, whatever happened with, uhh, with that robot that you built, you were say-

PETER: (standing up) SO GLAD YOU ASKED!

INT. BATTLEBOTS SET

The theme video plays for: BattleBots.

ANNOUNCER: And in this corner . . . the metal death machine on wheels, BUZZSAW McRUIN!

A metal battle-bot thrashes its metal limbs all around.

ANNOUNCER: And in THIS corner . . . Peter Griffin's robot . . . Android Peter Griffin.

ANDROID PETER: I PREFER THE TERM ARTIFICIAL PERSON. IF YOU DON'T MIND.

Buzzsaw McRuin approaches Android Peter, destroying him quickly.

ANDROID PETER: OW! OW! WHAT A CRUEL WORLD THIS IS FOR US ROBOTS! Gaaah.

Android Peter raises one hand up to the sky. Buzzsaw McRuin quickly cuts the arm in two.

ANDROID PETER: THIS IS WORSE . . . THAN . . . HIGH SCHOOL.

EXT. JAMES WOODS HIGH SCHOOL - DAY

James Woods High School, on a normal day.

INT. HIGH SCHOOL - CLASSROOM

TEACHER: Class, I'd like you to meet our newest student, Andrew Oid. Where are you from?

ANDROID: UMMM . . . UMMM . . . CANNOT PROCESS QUESTION. TRY AGAIN LATER.

KIDS IN THE CLASS: Ahh, this guy's being weird. Look at him! What kind of guy talks like that?

ANDROID: HIGH SCHOOL IS UNCOMFORTABLE THUS FAR.

In the corner of the room, he eyes an android girl robot, also somewhat fat, looking depressed. Their eyes meet. Gasp! She feels it! Gasp! He feels it, too! Android Peter Griffin feels love for her!

INT. HIGH SCHOOL - HALLWAYS - LATER

Android Peter and the girl robot are making out passionately in the hallway. Clack! Clack! Clack! Metal tongues touch.

PETER: THERE you are, Android Peter Griffin! I hereby forbid you from having a relationship with this girl robot! And you! You are not to see my robot any longer!

ANDROID: But, Dad! I love her!

PETER: . . . You . . . do? You . . . you really do mean it?

ANDROID: I really do mean it.

The two robots hold hands. Peter smiles, nodding his head.

PETER: I approve. God, this is like a robot version of that play I saw at that theater.

INT. STAGE THEATER

All the actors and actresses in Romeo and Juliet, as well as Peter and Brian, are floating in the air, moving very slowly.

PETER: Now. If we are in a flashback clip, within a clip, within a clip, that is Level 3 of Inception.

BRIAN: What does that mean? What's happening in Level 2?

PETER: Brian, Level 2 is still proceeding on its own, like normal. But 10 seconds of time, in Level 2, makes over 2 minutes here in Level 3.

Peter Griffin knocks on the wall, knocking it down, revealing the Brooklyn Bridge. Slowly, the edge of the bridge raises up into the air, creating an impossible landscape.

BACK TO the high school, with Peter Griffin and the male and female robots, still making out.

PETER: Ah-chooo!

INT. STAGE THEATER

The people are all still suspended in mid-air, but now, with Peter's sneeze, they are forced to fly ahead.

BRIAN: Wait a minute. So what's happening in Level 1 of Inception?

INT. BATTLEBOTS STAGE

Buzzsaw McRuin is slicing Android Peter.

ANDROID: Ahhhh! Ahhhh! But at least I got to have what time I had!

EXT. GRIFFIN HOME - NIGHT

A normal night, on Spooner Street.

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - LIVING ROOM

STEWIE: Yes, well, whatever the fat man and his eldest son are doing, I can only imagine. Maybe . . . maybe they're talking about how to make puppy dogs.

BRIAN: I guarantee you they are not talking about how to make puppy dogs.

STEWIE: Okay, well, I don't know! Okay? . . . Just . . . try to remember, you were my age once. You had no concept of how stuff works, at some point.

BRIAN: Huh. Yeah, boy is that true.

EXT. NATURAL OUTDOORS

Brian, in his puppy years, races around back and forth. He sees another dog. He races forward.

BRIAN: RUFF! RUFF! Tag, you're it!

He races back, away. He races forward again.

BRIAN: Tag -

OTHER DOG: GAAAHHRAAAH!

Jaws snapping, the other dog attacks Brian. Immediately, Brian is in the middle of a fight, both dogs locked in mortal combat, trying to kill each other.

BRIAN: You son of a bitch! I'll kill you! You hear me? I'll kill you!

OTHER DOG: You stupid dog, I'll teach you to bark at me!

BRIAN: ARR ARR ARR!

Brian sinks his teeth into the other dog.

BRIAN: I'm seriously gonna kill you! I'm seriously gonna kill you! This is your FINAL day on Earth! You hear me?!

They fly up into the air, like in Dragon Ball Z, and each one flies into the air at each other. Both dogs growing closer together, they swing punches at one another.

BRIAN: Come here! I'll - I'll -

Peter suddenly grabs Brian and lifts him higher up into the air.

PETER: Whoa! Whoa! Brian, you do NOT fight! You hear me? You do NOT fight!

Peter strikes some cymbals, causing a sound that is hurtful to Brian, making him stop.

The other dog attempts to bite Peter.

PETER: STOP IT! STOP IT! Go away! Go! Go home!

BRIAN: Arr arr arr! Arr arr arr!

Kicking, and thrashing, trying to escape Peter's grip, Brian still tries to fight the dog. Peter walks away.

PETER: Wait a minute, we didn't know each other this long! We met when you were a homeless adult!

BABY BRIAN: But in a parallel dimension, we met when I was a puppy! Huuuh? Huuuh? Pretty clever writing, huh?

INT. GRIFFIN HOME - LIVING ROOM

Back to Brian and Stewie on the couch.

BRIAN: All right, fine, so it's true. So I used to be your age once, and not know how stuff works. Huh . . . I used to get a lot of battle marks on me, back in the _day_. I just hope you don't end up in as many physical altercations as I did.

STEWIE: No, I - I don't think I'll be involved in many fights in my lifetime. One future timeline of mine involves working at an office, having Go-Gurt Day. It's up to me to shape which future materializes.

LOIS: What's that, Stewie? Baa baa? Here's baa baa!

STEWIE: No, no! I don't want Baba right now! Ehhh!

He pushes his bottle away with both hands. Lois tries one more time, but again he pushes it away.

STEWIE: Ehhh!

Knock knock! Brian's ears perk up as he looks toward the door.

BRIAN: ARR ARR ARR! ARR ARR ARR!

Brian races to the door, and opens it, to find Quagmire hovering in the air.

BRIAN: Oh, hey Quagmire! What the . . .?

QUAGMIRE: Yep! Turns out that what you THOUGHT was Level 1, is ACTUALLY Level 3! NOBODY's gonna figure out THIS movie!

Brian slams the door shut.

LOIS: Brian, who was that?

BRIAN: Uhhh . . . nothing.

INT. LOG CABIN

CHRIS: And so the police forced my Dad to stop running his business, and they only succeeded in shutting down the Spooner Street house. The rest of the business goes on in 17 different states.

PETER: Yep! That's right, 17 states.

CHRIS: So, now we learned a valuable lesson. My record store job, and my college degree, are what's valuable in life, because that is a real job, and is not selling drugs or prostitution.

PETER: Chris, you're wrong again. We have learned yet again that college degrees and record store jobs are for losers, and these girls make real money. That's what we learned. You gotta make money somehow, Chris. You gotta do something. You gotta do something.

CHRIS: Dad, that's not the lesson.

PETER: Well it is to me. Good night, America!

BLACK.

CHRIS' VOICE: Ohhh . . . wait!

BACK TO Chris and Peter. Chris is holding up a large red shimmering jewel.

CHRIS: It turns out _red kryptonite _is what caused all of this devious behavior lately! But as the red kryptonite is now wearing off, things should be back to normal again!

PETER: Yes, by next episode I'll be saying this never happened. Good night, you pathetic losers who work at restaurants!

BLACK. END OF ACT TWO. END OF EPISODE.


End file.
